


Brother Mine

by CariadWinter



Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On [3]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/pseuds/CariadWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle of the Five Armies is over and Kíli can't help but think back on all the time that Fíli and he have wasted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Mine

The halls of Erebor still stank like dragon, but Kíli had decided days ago that he preferred the stench of the beast to that of the lingering odor of blood and sickness.  He had barely moved since the battle's end.  The healers had seen to and dressed his injuries.  He'd never have the use of his left eye again and his cracked ribs made it hard to breathe.  There were gashes and scrapes.  His right arm had been bandaged heavily from where he'd been skewered with a goblin blade.  Pain was a constant for him and would be for many moons to come.  The physical pain was a dull backdrop to the growing ache in his heart though.  The healers did not expect Fíli to survive. 

"Bilbo started his journey home this morning," Kíli stated to the silent room.  The echo of his own voice off the stone walls was startling. 

Fíli lay in the bed next to his own, unmoving and pale.  Even in sleep, his brother had never been so still.  It was unnerving.  

"He thinks Uncle Thorin was killed in the battle.  Thorin won't tell him different and he's ordered everyone else to keep his secret.  He thinks it's better this way." 

Kíli shook his head, then grimaced at the pain that lanced his skull.  The loss of his vision in one eye was disorienting at best and he'd not been able to shake the constant throb in his head since he'd awoken.  His whole face felt battered and bruised.  

He wanted to move, to shift around so that he could actually look at Fíli while he was talking, but moving felt tantamount to driving hot forging irons through his chest.  The healers had wrapped his ribs tightly, tight enough that it was nearly a struggle to draw in a deep breath, but it still wasn't enough to dull down the pain caused while shifting.  He felt trapped in his own skin and it was starting to drive him a little mad. 

"I think it's a load of rubbish honestly," Kíli continued as though his brother were awake and hanging on his every word.  "I mean, it is so obvious that Thorin is in love with Bilbo and Bilbo with Thorin.  And what do they do about it?  They tottle around each other like pre-pubescent twats, tripping over their words, and then they just…"  

He stopped, his eye darting back and forth rapidly along the wall that framed the arched doorway leading into their bedchamber.  Everything was so foreign here and yet, as long as his brother was close, home was never too far away.  Kíli didn't know what he would do if he lost him.  He could not bear the thought of it.  Fíli was everything to him.  They were more like twins than brothers years apart.  They were halves of a whole, had been since Kíli had been old enough to walk.  

Kíli's eye stilled at the very top of the arched doorway and he clenched his teeth together.  There was more.  So much more.  There were words that lay unspoken between the two of them.  Both of them knew it, what this thing was that lay between them, but they had never given it voice.  They loved each other, needed each other.  It was more than brotherly affection, but honor and duty had kept them a step apart, always touching, but never in the way they both desired.  A skewed, broken sort of innocence still clung to both of them. 

Kíli had tried once, to act on the feelings he felt for his brother.  It had been after a long day spent working away in their Uncle's forge.  They had both been tired, but had retreated to the tavern for sustenance and perhaps a few libations to carry them through the rest of the evening.  Kíli had watched as a young dwarvish maiden had pressed herself into Fíli's personal space. She draped herself over him, settled in his lap and Fíli's face had become flushed pink with drink and arousal.  Kíli had hated her.  He had sat brooding for over an hour, wanting nothing more than to rip the trollop away from his brother and claim back what was his.  Only, Fíli had not been his, not in that manner at least. 

Ashamed at his sudden flare of jealous rage, Kíli had fled the tavern, leaving Fíli and his consort for the night behind.  He had stumbled home alone, red-faced and bitter, determined to draw himself a bath so that he could scrub away the depravity that had twisted itself around his very bones.  He'd only gotten as far as stripping his boots and tunic off before his brother had come wandering in after him, inquiring about his sudden departure.  Kíli had ignored him, angry with his brother for following him and desperate to be alone so that he could work through his muddled thoughts.  Fíli, unwilling to be ignored, had advanced on him and forced him to acknowledge him.  Kíli had. 

There had been no thought to what he had done next.  He'd simply acted on instinct and probably more than a fair share of lust and jealousy.  Without warning, and with Fíli's hands still gripping tightly to his arms, Kíli had pressed forward and covered his brother's mouth with his own.  

The kiss had been a harsh press of lips and teeth, lacking any finesse or softness.  Fíli had stood frozen against him for a moment and then the strangest, most exhilarating thing had happened – his brother had kissed him back.  They'd tangled themselves together then; all tongues and teeth, arms and legs, eating at each other's mouths like starving animals.  The next they'd known, they'd been rutting frantically on the floor, breeches ripped open with their thick, aching arousals sliding together desperately.  Kíli had reached his climax first, arching up from the floor impossibly high and shouting out in shocked ecstasy.  Fíli had followed closely behind him, cursing in Khuzdul and then collapsing on top of him. 

A heavy silence, accented only by their heavy breathing had followed, and then the reality of their situation had reared its ugly head.  They'd hastily withdrawn from each other, cleaned themselves, and then busied themselves with not looking at each other.  Kíli had been mortified that he'd let his blind lust and jealousy get the better of him.  He'd been disgusted with himself and the fact that, despite how wrong he knew it to be, all he wanted was to crawl back into his brother's arms and stay there until the rest of the world faded away. 

Fíli had disappeared for the rest of the night and when he'd returned the following morning, he'd smelled of stale ale and cheap perfume.  Kíli had swallowed down another wave of jealous fury, nearly choking on the bile that had washed over the back of his tongue, and he'd waited for his brother to get himself together.  They'd talked after that, had given light and life to their desires for each other, but Fíli had reminded him of family and honor and duty.  Yes, they loved each other.  Yes, they desired each other.  No, Kíli was not on his own in any of it.  No… no matter how much they cared for each other, it could never be for them.  They'd agreed then and there that it would never happen again.  They'd never speak on it… and they had not. 

As he lay there now, thinking on the past, Kíli hated the time they had lost.  He had kept his promise all those years ago.  He'd never spoken of their one stolen moment together or the feelings that had only grown stronger over the long years.  He had watched in silence as his brother had drifted from one maiden's bed to another and had even given in to the pleasures that could be found in another's bed himself.  Eventually, the jealousy and bitterness had faded into resignation and acceptance.  Now though, the world seemed to be hanging on the edge of sword, and Kíli could feel it slicing through the sickeningly vulnerable layers of his heart.  If Fíli left him, Kíli knew that he would not be far behind him. 

"Sod it all," he growled and slid his hands up slowly so that he could get them beneath him. 

Kíli forced himself into a sitting position, grinding his teeth against the white-hot pain that stole his breath away.  By the time he managed to push the blankets covering him aside and shift himself to the edge of the bed, he was panting harshly and blinking past the black spots in his vision.  Fíli lay only a few feet away from him, his prone form seeming smaller and more fragile than he had ever seen. 

"I don't give… a dragon's… arsehole… about honor or duty," Kíli grated out as he pushed himself to his feet.  He swayed where he stood for a moment, coming dangerously close to collapsing back onto the bed, but managed to get his feet underneath him and the pain lancing through his ribs under control. 

He shuffled slowly over to the other bed and then, ever so gently, he pulled back the blankets covering his brother and slipped in next to him.  The agony of moving and walking and twisting his body into a comfortable position was enough to bring tears to Kíli's eye.  It had been worth it though, now that he was able to actually curl up against his brother's warmth and pillow his head on Fíli's shoulder. 

"You can't go on without me, Fíli," he mumbled tiredly as his eye fluttered and then slid shut.  Kíli ached everywhere and just the short trip from one bed to the other had been exhausting.  "Who else is going to help me keep Uncle in line?  The stubborn old bastard will be impossible to live with now that Bilbo is gone.  You know he will." 

He slipped his hand further up Fíli's chest so that he could wrap his fingers around one of his brother's braids.  "I've got a plan though.  I'm going to go fetch Bilbo and bring him back.  He'd of never left had he known Uncle was still alive.  So don't you see?  I need you, Fíli.  I've only got one good eye now.  I'll be lost in no time without you by my side.  You always did say that I had a terrible sense of direction." 

Fíli's only response was the slow rise and fall of his chest.  Kíli took that as agreement, smiled, and curled in tighter – careful not to jostle his brother and his injuries too badly.


End file.
